A sweet friend and I held an intimate grief and healing circle last night. When I announced it, I received so many responses acknowledging my gift to community, as if I were doing something noble. The truth is, I did not do it primarily as a service for others; that was a side benefit. I did it for me. I needed community. I needed to process this amongst loving and kind people who sit in the many feelings of shock, outrage, confusion, grief and a plethora of other feelings and parts vying for attention.
I have said for many years, more times than I can count, that any difficulty, with a hand to hold, is 100 times better. And without that hand, 1,000 times worse. I remember when the Twin Towers fell, I had just moved to a farm in the middle of Wisconsin. I hadn’t built community yet so I grieved that shock mostly alone, and it plummeted me. This wasn’t the Twin Towers, but the shock, that sick-to-my-stomach horror, felt familiar, and I didn’t want to repeat that amplification of the pain with isolation.
Last night helped. And this morning I am accepting the reality of this. I am saying “Yes, this is true. Yes, this is happening. Yes, about half of this country (at least of those who voted) voted against my kind, against democracy. Yes. This is the reality I am facing.” And so, what do I do in light of this truth?
How do I navigate this world now and how do I not let fearful parts take over?
I’ve been thinking about refuge. In Buddhism we talk about the three refuges: the Buddha (divine nature), the Dharma (truth), and the Sangha (community), as sources of shelter from suffering. And yes to that. And also what is it that I need to take refuge in to keep my heart open and loving and to not let others’ hatred become my own?
This is my commitment:
I take refuge in beauty.
I take refuge in nature.
I take refuge in community.
I take refuge in the friends who love me as dearly as I love them.
I take refuge in kindness.
I take refuge in practice.
I take refuge in music/chanting.
I take refuge in dance.
I take refuge in tea ceremony.
I take refuge in The Medicine.
May you find refuge in the sources that sustain you.
May they hold you the way the earth holds a seed through winter.
May you drink deeply there and rise again, fed and unafraid.
May you never mistake a bunker for a sanctuary, sealing yourself away from the suffering of others.
May you walk out again and again, heart open, carrying what you gathered to those who need it.